


every star a signpost

by Azzandra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends, F/M, Kink Meme, No Slitherers AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: All of Edelgard's siblings are still alive, and, being a few rungs lower on the chain of succession, the only major thing in her future is a political marriage to a son of the Almyran royal family. It works out, weirdly.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 90
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a [kink meme prompt.](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=1163484#cmt1163484)

Edelgard looked out onto the gardens. The autumn was mild, even for Adrestia, and so it was still warm enough to have a late breakfast on the terrace as the sun shone cheerfully.  
  
It was a contrast to her mood, which was already turning melancholy at the thought of leaving Enbarr.  
  
She heard the balcony doors click open, and her brother's heavy steps followed.  
  
"There you are, El." Otto von Hresvelg, her eldest brother and heir to the Empire, emerged onto the terrace with a rueful smile.  
  
Hubert, the ever-attentive vassal, closed the balcony doors behind them and placed himself as sentinel in the doorway.  
  
"I thought you wouldn't come," Edelgard said, almost as a reprimand.  
  
"I almost thought so too," Otto sighed dramatically, throwing himself into the chair across from her. He looked like he was about to launch into a rant about what held him up, but upon noticing the untouched food on the table, his attitude took a different turn. "You should have eaten without me."  
  
Edelgard shrugged. She had not been feeling particularly hungry, and though the bread had been steaming fresh when she sat down at the breakfast table, she did not think it would taste so badly now that it had cooled. Her brother's presence could always improve a meal considerably, but with so many siblings, Edelgard had a lot of competition for his attention.  
  
Still, she was pleased that she could share a meal with him before she left for the Officers Academy. Otto was nearly five years her elder, and his coronation would likely happen sooner rather than later. No telling how much time for his siblings he would have as Emperor.  
  
"Are you still sulking about going off to school?" Otto asked, picking up a roll and starting to butter it heroically. At least if he went through all the butter, he'd leave all the jam to Edelgard; this was why nobody else ever wanted to have breakfast with the two of them.  
  
"I am not sulking," Edelgard insisted. "I just..."  
  
She wanted to say she did not see the purpose to going to the Officers Academy, but the truth was that she understood. Other than Otto, she was the only one of their siblings to have a Crest, and it was a minor one at that. If anything happened to Otto before he had children--or even after he had children, if they ended up Crestless--she would be bumped up in the line of succession by at least a spot or two.  
  
That she was not immediately next in line after Otto, in spite of her Crest, was an unfortunate effect of how succession truly functioned behind the scenes: the job of gaining political traction and accumulating social capital fell squarely on the parents of the Imperial Princes and Princesses, those who were spouses or consorts to the Emperor. This allowed the siblings to maintain relatively warm relations even as their mothers vied for political power on their behalves, but it had also put Edelgard at a distinct disadvantage throughout her childhood.  
  
Their father held each one of his consorts dear, but he had only ever been in love with Edelgard's mother, Anselma. And love, in the eyes of the other consorts, was dangerous to both them and their children. There were some notorious historical instances of Emperors putting aside their heirs and consorts for the love of a single person, and even if Anselma was an unambitious soul, and lacking significant political influence, she had been deemed a danger. Scant few years after Edelgard was born, some confusing political circumstances had resulted in Anselma's unofficial exile due to some deft political manipulations by the other Imperial consorts.  
  
The court knew why. The Emperor knew why. Many of Edelgard's older siblings had even known. But nobody spoke of it, and Edelgard had only truly learned of it when her mother returned to Enbarr three years prior.  
  
It was not as if Anselma could pick up where she left off, even if she had ever been particularly adept at the games that the other consorts excelled at. If Edelgard was to ever be faced with wielding any significant modicum of power, she would have to forge the path herself. As things stood, the only thing in her future was a political marriage to a son of the Almyran royal family: and her betrothed had even more siblings than Edelgard herself, all clamoring for the throne. If it had been Brigid, or Dagda, one of the nations with closer ties to Adrestia, maybe Edelgard could feasibly create a powerbase for herself simply through her ties to the Empire. But Almyra? A powerful nation, but even communication with them was determined by the shifting winds in their relations with the Leicester Alliance. Almyra needed nothing Adrestia had to offer, and the reverse was also true.  
  
And now she was going to Garreg Mach for a year. She had so little time left to spend with her family, with the city she'd grown up in, and now even less for the fact that her father thought it wise that she attend the Officers Academy.  
  
"I'm going to miss you," she admitted to her brother, and she meant not only while she was at Garreg Mach, but in perpetuity: for all of her unfolding years of marriage after that.  
  
"And I'll miss you too," Otto replied briskly, before stuffing most of the roll he had finished buttering into his mouth.  
  
Edelgard smothered a giggle.  
  
"You can still write," Otto said. "And if that Aegir brat gives you trouble at school, feel free to cuff him over the head on my behalf. I can't do that, since it would be undignified for the crown prince to bully children."  
  
"Ferdinand isn't so bad," Edelgard said.  
  
Otto gave her a look.  
  
"You only say that because you're not the one he's constantly annoying," Otto replied. "I nearly tripped over him on my way to the budget meeting the other day because he was lurking outside the council chambers, 'getting a head start on his ministerial career'." Otto added that last part with a nasal whine that really was unfair towards Ferdinand, but certainly conveyed Otto's annoyance.  
  
"You should try to get along with him better," Edelgard said. "He is going to be your Prime Minister one day."  
  
"Not if he sends me to an early grave, he's not," Otto snorted.  
  
He meant it as a joke, of course. And Edelgard liked Ferdinand well enough, but even she found him a bit much at times.  
  
Yet the remark, off-handed as it was, still sent an unpleasant chill down Edelgard's back.  
  
"Please don't talk like that," Edelgard said.  
  
Otto sobered as he took in Edelgard's serious face, and he nodded jerkily in response. Looking out over the balustrade of the terrace, Edelgard could see that her mother was taking her morning constitutional through the gardens. One more reminder of how quickly fortunes could be reversed.  
  
Hubert cleared his throat in the awkward lull, and Otto jumped out of his seat.  
  
"I'm sorry, El, duty calls," he excused himself. "I just wanted to drop in to say hello."  
  
"It's fine," Edelgard said, trying not to look too disheartened.  
  
Otto wiped his hands on a napkin, and rushed off again. Hubert paused to incline his head towards Edelgard politely before following at his master's heels.

* * *

Edelgard was ten years old when the Almyran delegation came to Enbarr; old enough to wear a stiff white dress with too many ruffles, have her hair pulled back in a braid so tight it made her scalp sore, and stand like a good girl in the row of Hresvelg children as boring speeches were exchanged between diplomats. But she had also been young enough that when discussions turned from rote protocol to matters of state, she'd been led out by her governess, and let loose into the gardens with strict instructions not to soil her dress.  
  
That was when she'd first met Khalid, who'd probably not gotten the same instruction to keep his clothes neat, or else had outright ignored it, because he was in the process of attempting to climb a tree--he was not excelling at the task. Edelgard remembered watching him for a long time as he hung onto a branch and kept trying to brace his feet against the trunk, but his feet kept slipping, as though his soles had no grip. In her memories, she would think that he was at this for hours, feet pacing in place against the trunk of the tree, almost comical with how fast they worked, but not managing to advance at all for how they kept slipping. Yet it couldn't have been more than five minutes, and Edelgard could not resist an haughty snort at some point.  
  
His feet stilled, and his head whipped around at the sound, and then, like his previous antics had been nothing but a mummer's show, he hoisted his legs up, wrapped them around the branch he was hanging onto, and let go with his hands, ending up hanging upside down with his arms crossed.  
  
"And what's so funny?" he demanded with a completely straight face and a superior little sniff that was so pitch-perfect, he had to have stolen it from someone in particular. There was a halting cadence to his words, but no other trace of an accent.  
  
Edelgard didn't laugh, more out of stubbornness, but she crossed her arms as well.  
  
"You'll snag your pants," she pointed out. His trousers were of some Almyran cut--loose and flowing--but made of fine silk in gold and green. They were not fit for such rough play.  
  
"If I do, I'll tell them a mean girl in a white dress attacked me," he replied, grinning wickedly.  
  
Edelgard felt a wave of indignation that he would lie like that, even if he sounded like he was joking. But it was a jest in poor taste, if that was so. She frowned, unable to articulate why she found his words objectionable.  
  
"I wouldn't do that," she muttered sullenly in response, and she must have sounded more genuinely hurt than intended, because the boy's smile wiped away instantly, and he let go of the branch to drop into a crouch on the ground. When he straightened up, he was serious, and extended his hand as he approached Edelgard.  
  
"I'm Khalid," he said.  
  
Edelgard eyed his hand, recalling how the Almyran diplomats had clasped forearms. But she too awkward trying to imitate the foreign custom, so she grasped Khalid's fingers instead and curtsied, falling back on Adrestian etiquette. His hand was sweaty and filthy from the tree bark; she resisted the urge to scrunch her nose at him.  
  
"Edelgard von Hresvelg," she introduced herself primly, while Khalid looked at his own fingers like she'd been the one to leave dirt on him.

* * *

The summer that the Almyran delegation visited Enbarr, Edelgard would come across Khalid almost daily. Sometimes it would be in the gardens of the imperial palace, most of which were open to visiting officials, but some of which were reserved for the use of the Imperial family alone, and Khalid seemed to have little regard for the difference.  
  
Other times, she would stumble upon him in odd places: the stables, one of the libraries, the hallway outside the kitchen.  
  
If adults caught him, he was quick to feign an ignorance of both the Fodlan tongue and his own trespass, and turn large, guileless green eyes to the adult in question.  
  
Edelgard, who knew that he spoke the language perfectly well, never revealed this to anyone else, and it was not for the way Khalid would press a finger to his lips in a universal 'shh' gesture behind the adults' back. Mostly it was because she was curious what he would do. Mischief did not come naturally to any of the Hresvelg children the way it did to Khalid, and there was something entrancing about Khalid's daring.  
  
She was a reluctant playmate whenever Khalid tried to get her to come along with her. It was all very well for him, given that the Almyran delegation would eventually leave, and he was allowed a certain amount of forbearance as a visiting dignitary's family member, but Edelgard would have to live at the palace, and endure the consequences of any action.  
  
Yet, regardless, he still managed to rope her along a few times.  
  
He showed her how to sneak into the roost that sheltered the wyverns of the Almyran delegation, and it was the first time Edelgard had ever seen one of the beasts up close. Khalid held her hand, but not as tightly as she held his, and she felt most self-conscious for how loudly her lacquered shoes clacked against the ground, when his steps were soft as a cat's. Wings unfurled over their heads like sails, and one of the beasts' heads swung over to follow the sound of Edelgard's steps.  
  
Under the reptilian gaze of that great creature, Edelgard would have faltered. But Khalid did not hesitate as he walked right past it. He was as calm as someone else would be strolling down a garden path.  
  
"Just don't act like prey, you'll be fine," Khalid promised.  
  
"What does prey act like?" Edelgard asked, because the alternative was asking what would happen if she did so, and she was not ready to find out.  
  
Khalid stopped and frowned in thought for a moment.  
  
"You've watched cats?" he asked, and released her hand so he could make a gesture like a cat's paw swatting through the air. "When you move a string or throw something, they pounce on it. Like it's prey."  
  
Edelgard was, at least, familiar with that concept. She and her siblings had often smuggled kittens into their playrooms, and spent long afternoons playing with them--at least until someone came to return the kittens back to the barn or kitchen that their mother-cat lived and worked in.  
  
"No running, then?" Edelgard asked. "No abrupt movements?"  
  
Khalid grinned. "You'll figure it out."  
  
Edelgard supposed she would; Khalid hadn't gotten himself eaten yet, so there must have been less of a danger to it than she thought.  
  
Still, when they finished weaving their way through the roost, and reached the large black wyvern near the back, she still would have balked if not for Khalid's strange calm. It was sleeping, curled up just like a cat, nose-to-haunches, and producing a low growl on its exhales that might have been a purr in a smaller creature.  
  
"I'll ride one like it when I'm older," Khalid said, patting the wyvern's nose solemnly. "Will you get to ride anything interesting when you grow up?"  
  
"No," Edelgard said, and then out of a sudden burst of competitiveness added, "but I've got a Crest."  
  
"A wyvern's better," Khalid said.  
  
Edelgard agreed, but did not say so out loud. She did deign to touch the wyvern when Khalid invited her to. The scales were warm, and unexpectedly soft to the touch.

* * *

It was only at the end of summer that Edelgard learned part of the negotiations with the Almyrans had included a marriage contract between herself and one of the Almyran kings' sons.  
  
"It was that little impish one they had along," Mama Madelaine said as she brushed Edelgard's hair. "Khalid, I believe his name was."  
  
Edelgard was stunned silent, but Mama Madelaine did not seem to notice.  
  
"He might grow more well-behaved with years. Regardless, he will benefit from a more staid wife to rein in his impulses. One might do worse with better starting stock, if I might say," Mama Madelaine continued, and in the mirror Edelgard saw the way her lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.  
  
It would take several more years before Edelgard fully understood the subtext of Lady Madelaine's words. Ultimately, the woman was the mother of one of Edelgard's siblings, and as Imperial Consort, no matter the affection she held for Edelgard, she would always look out for her own child first. And what more efficient way to neutralize her child's rival for the throne, than to send her far away, to a foreign land where her Crest mattered not one whit, and where she would be too occupied with reining in some mischievous husband to meddle in Adrestian politics?  
  
But at that age, the only thing Edelgard understood was that one of the adults she had always trusted and felt close to wanted to send her far away from home, and that was enough to crush her heart in ways she did not know were possible until then.  
  
And in the emotional fallout of this betrayal, and the revelation of how precarious her position in the family really was, Khalid would be lost in the shuffle. She would recall her betrothal with surprise later, in odd moments, and never quite feel like it was a real thing. It would be years, after all, before she had to marry him. And anything might happen until then.


	2. Chapter 2

Edelgard did not expect to meet Khalid at Garreg Mach, and in a sense, she didn't. She met Claude von Riegan.  
  
At first, she couldn't really place why he seemed so familiar to her, but given the fact that she was in Black Eagles and he was leading the Golden Deer , neither did she have enough contact with him to be able to figure it out. Ferdinand, who was leading the Black Eagles that year, had mixed opinions of his counterpart in Golden Deer House.  
  
"He is terribly clever," Ferdinand had said, "but not very self-disciplined." And from there Ferdinand had launched into a lecture about the importance of constant self-improvement in a noble's life, and Edelgard nodded along and made interested sounds at regular interval while still pondering on the question of Claude von Riegan.  
  
The question would pop into her head in her idle moments: during boring lectures, while doing her assigned chores, when the repetitive training drills had sunk into her muscle memory and she could let her mind wander. Where had she met Claude, that his face and mannerisms seemed so familiar to her? She turned over in her head every interaction she had had with nobility from the Leicester Alliance, but Claude hadn't even been known as Duke Riegan's grandson until scarcely a year ago. Had she met him in some other happenstance way? Surely it had to have been a prolonged interaction, if she still remembered him. Maybe if she could figure out where she'd met him, she would also have the key to the mystery of his life before being announced as heir to House Riegan.  
  
Or, maybe she did not remember him at all. Perhaps he brought up memories of someone else entirely, and that was the real reason she could not place him.  
  
The mystery had some allure, she had to admit. But Edelgard did not want to do anything too strange and embarrassing so early in the school year, so she decided to put it to the side.  
  
The mock battle passed with an unexpected victory by the Golden Deer. Ferdinand, whose tactics had been entirely too bold, accepted his defeat gracefully, and Claude was not as obnoxious in his victory as Ferdinand would have been, at any rate, so Edelgard did not feel too put out by her class losing the battle.  
  
"It was a close thing," Claude said, crossing his arms behind his head. "If your defenses were just a bit tighter, you could have crushed us."  
  
"Yes, well," Ferdinand said, "it will serve as an important lesson for the future."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure it will," Claude said, and aimed his grin towards Edelgard like they were sharing a joke. Again, the sense of familiarity scratched at something in the back of Edelgard's mind, but Claude soon invited all the Houses for a celebratory feast, and the rising cheers cut right through the fragile thread of her memory before it fully coalesced.  
  
Once at the dining hall, the three classes crowded together at one table, caught up in a burst of camaraderie that Claude encouraged. Edelgard would have taken the opportunity to watch Claude more closely, but he flitted from seat to seat, sidling up to different classmates, his own or from the other Houses, carrying around his plate or stealing morsels from others, talking and laughing and always at ease.  
  
Edelgard lost track of him at one point, but he popped up at her elbow in short order, squeezing himself onto the bench between herself and Dorothea.  
  
"You two make a great team," Claude said, and his smile was a bit lopsided. "I saw you take out Lorenz together when he ran ahead. Not that I doubt you're perfectly deadly on an individual basis."  
  
Dorothea was always gracious in accepting compliments, and she looked perfectly happy to bask in Claude's.  
  
"I have been known to knock 'em dead," Dorothea replied, brushing against Claude's arm in one of those little flirty touches Edelgard had seen her employ to great effect. "But it's usually with a song. Now, Edie here-- she's the one to watch on a battlefield."  
  
Then both their gazes turned to her, keen green eyes and friendly smiles that had Edelgard break into a cold sweat.  
  
"Swinging an axe isn't that impressive," Edelgard muttered, looking down into her plate. For some reason, the combined attention of Claude and Dorothea was making her feel oddly light-headed. She felt the heat rise to her face, and hope it didn't show, though she knew her ears were probably turning red.  
  
Claude lingered for a bit more flirty banter with Dorothea, while Edelgard ate her food and studiously avoided eye contact. He left soon after, and Dorothea gave a dramatic sigh.  
  
"Honestly, Edie."  
  
"What?" she asked, surprised by Dorothea's tone.  
  
"You were watching that boy like a starving hound watching a hunk of meat," Dorothea said.  
  
"I wasn't--"  
  
"Don't get me wrong, you could do worse than that particular," Dorothea waggled her eyebrows suggestively, " _hunk_. But you're going to miss your chance if you turn into a wallflower whenever he's around."  
  
It was Edelgard's turn to sigh. "Dorothea, you're misinterpreting my interest. I have an arranged marriage waiting for me."  
  
But Dorothea was undeterred, and threw her arm around Edelgard's shoulders to draw her in and whisper in her ear.  
  
"All the more reason to have your fun while you can," she said.

* * *

The feast was, by general agreement, a fine diversion. But the next day came the post-mortem analysis session of the Black Eagles' disastrous performance in the mock battle.  
  
Manuela was, in contrast to her off-hours, a sober presence in the classroom. They went over the report of the mock battle and she wrote on the blackboard each one of their errors that the students identified. Ferdinand took the failure personally, but Manuela did not let them wallow, and kept the mood of the class from souring as she quickly reoriented them towards how their performance might be improved.  
  
Here Ferdinand had opinions, as he did on anything and everything since Edelgard had met him at the age of three, but in a gratifying display of leadership, he did draw others into the conversation and ask for their opinions as well.  
  
Edelgard was just thinking of the kind of Prime Minister he would make one day, and was distracted by it just a bit, because she startled when Ferdinand addressed her.  
  
"I think I have an idea for extending your range by a considerable degree, if you would agree to it," Ferdinand was saying, eyes bright with excitement.  
  
"I'll hear it out," Edelgard said in response, and Ferdinand beamed.  
  
It wasn't a half bad idea, and the rest of the class was carried by the optimism of their new training plans. Now the thing to look forward to was the Battle of Eagle and Lion, which they vowed to win just as they hadn't the mock battle.

* * *

On her days off, Edelgard liked to wander the grounds of the monastery, finding the odd little places where the landscapes were breathtaking. She had always liked drawing. One of her stepmothers once told her that painting was an appropriately lady-like pursuit for a princess, but Edelgard was drawn more towards sketching, and the bold lines of charcoal.  
  
She had her sketchbook under her arm one day as she arrived to one of the pretty views where she liked to sit and draw, and discovered someone else had also taken to the landscape. Ignatz startled terribly when he noticed her, sending loose paper flying.  
  
"I apologize. I didn't think anyone would be here," Edelgard said, turning to leave.  
  
"No! No, I'm not-- It's fine, I didn't know this spot was taken!" Ignatz said, quickly gathering his papers to stuff them back into his sketchbook.  
  
"It's not taken, I simply like to come here sometimes-- Ignatz, please stop." She grabbed his arm before he could run off. "We are being silly right now. We can both stay. It's not like either of us has any claim to this place."  
  
Ignatz pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, and then nodded.  
  
"Yes, you do have a point," he conceded, and then sat back down, a bit farther away to give Edelgard space.  
  
After the initial awkwardness, Edelgard found Ignatz to be soothing company. He was quiet and focused when working on his art, and a strangely insightful conversationalist when drawn out of his shell. Edelgard wasn't sure if she was simply too used to the pretenses of nobility, but Ignatz, having no agenda or ulterior motives, was more pleasant and genuine than many people Edelgard had met during her life.  
  
At least, she liked him well enough when he wasn't being down on himself.  
  
"I should put it all away and concentrate on being a knight," he lamented.  
  
"Nonsense," Edelgard replied. "You aren't even a knight yet. You should sooner make as much art as you can now, before your duties truly distract you from it."  
  
Ignatz looked ambivalent about that advice, to say the least. Edelgard supposed her own presence was not quite as soothing to him in turn, but she had never quite mastered being as warm and supportive as the imperial consorts she'd tried to emulate.  
  
"Ignatz," she said, just to change the subject, "I was wondering if you have some idea of where Claude came from."  
  
But the confused way he frowned in response suggested otherwise.  
  
"He's Duke Riegan's heir," Ignatz said slowly. "He just showed up about a year ago."  
  
"A Duke's heir," Edelgard insisted, "can't just 'show up' out of nowhere. Surely there must have been rumors of his existence beforehand. Some gossip about a Riegan by-blow? Some Crest scholar tracking the bloodline?"  
  
Ignatz shrugged. "I never paid much attention to that kind of thing at the time. Everyone thought it was pretty clear Godfrey would be the next Duke Riegan, but then he died and... Claude just showed up. I suppose the old Duke must have had him hidden away just for this sort of thing. They do say he's exceedingly wily."  
  
It was not much at all, but Edelgard had to accept it was all she would learn through this avenue.

* * *

With her new training regimen decided, Edelgard also had a work assignment to match. As the next week started, she made her way past the stables and to the building just beyond.  
  
The smell of a wyvern roost was alwayspungent, but it brought with it a wave of nostalgia she didn't quite expect. She stood in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark and dredging up some old memory in the process. A feeling of warm scales under her palm, the humid breath of a wyvern. A hand pulling her along.  
  
The dry scrape of tails against the floor, or of wings unfolding was not as terrifying to Edelgard as it had been when she was only a small girl. What had once been fear had settled into a healthy respect, but she still always thought: don't act like prey. She'd nearly forgotten where she'd learned that, except how could she? It was a thought always close at hand whenever she saw a wyvern.  
  
The one she would ride for this patrol was a placid male, though still as capable of ripping an arm off as the next of his kin. He watched Edelgard with green eyes, his pupils contracting to slits as he chirped at her. She reached out and showed no hesitation, and in turn he allowed her to scratch under his chin. His eyes slowly closed in delight, so much like a cat.  
  
She heard steps behind her, but she didn't take much notice of it. Petra had also been assigned to this patrol alongside Edelgard, and that was who she thought was approaching.  
  
But the voice was very much not Petra's.  
  
"Got him wrapped around your finger, huh?" Claude asked.  
  
Edelgard froze. Only for a moment, before the old lesson returned to mind-- _don't act like prey_ \--and she dragged her blunt nails along the wyvern's sinuous neck in long even strokes. Her body continued through the motions, but her mind whirled as clues slotted together in ways she did not expect. She'd been wracking her brains over every person she'd met from the Leicester Alliance, but that wasn't how she'd met him.  
  
He had walked right up next to her as the final piece fell in place, and she remembered.  
  
"Khalid," she whispered, and turned to catch the look on his face. Surprise, at first; then some strange sort of gratification.  
  
"Nice to see you again, El," he said, a smile spreading across his face.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe this," Edelgard said, numb with shock.  
  
Claude rubbed the back of his neck, his smile turning a bit rueful.  
  
"Yeah, guess I should have expected to run into you here, huh?"  
  
"No! I can't believe _you_! Are you--" Edelgard's head whirled as she tried to figure it out, trying to pick up the thread of how Khalid, the Almyran prince, would have ended up _here_ , at Garreg Mach, under the pretense of being a Leicester noble. "Are you pretending to be a Riegan? How?"  
  
She shook her head, unable to grasp how that would even be possible. Was this some Almyran plan? Surely it wouldn't make any sense to send a member of the royal family as a spy. Some secret maneuver of Duke Riegan? An alliance with the Almyrans, for some inscrutable purpose?  
  
"I'm not pretending to be anything," Claude corrected, turning serious. "I am Duke Riegan's heir. He signed the paperwork, and everything."  
  
"But does he know who you are?" Edelgard asked, still not making sense of anything.  
  
Claude turned to pick up the wyvern saddle, where it hung on a nearby post, and passed it to Edelgard. He was still the picture of calm, like he hadn't just caused a thousand unanswered questions with every answer he provided.  
  
"He knows I'm his grandson," Claude said, as Edelgard took the saddle reflexively. "I got tested for a crest. I couldn't fake that, could I?"  
  
Now that Edelgard thought about it, no, he probably couldn't. She knew Hanneman would have likely tested Claude as well, and Duke Riegan was unlikely to have named Claude heir unless he had at least a minor Crest of Riegan.  
  
She turned to saddle her wyvern, trying to sort her thoughts as she went about this task. Keeping her hands busy at least settled her enough for all this bizarre information to sink in. The wyvern chirred as Edelgard buckled the saddle into place.  
  
"I thought you were Almyran royalty," Edelgard said eventually.  
  
"I am," Claude said.  
  
"But you're a Riegan."  
  
"That, too."  
  
"How can you be both?" Edelgard asked.  
  
"Well, you see," Claude began, "when two people love each other very much, sometimes they'll take their clothes off and--"  
  
Edelgard made a very undignified squawking sound, and smacked Claude's chest. He burst into laughter, the same snickering one she recalled since they were children. It stopped her from taking offense at his bad joke.  
  
"Different sides of the family, obviously," Claude answered in the end.  
  
 _Obviously_ , Edelgard thought sardonically. But she did not get the opportunity to voice any other questions, because Petra arrived soon after, and Claude took his leave cheerfully.

* * *

Edelgard would spend her air patrol in a haze, too consumed with the revelations that had tilted her world just slightly sideways. At first, merely the stunning coincidence of running into Khalid here, of all places, was enough to shake her. But then, the more she thought about it, the more a new set of troubling implications began unraveling before her.  
  
She had always thought she was meant for a perfunctory political marriage somewhere very far away, out of sight and out of mind as far as the Adrestian court was concerned. Being married to the next leader of the Leicester Alliance was a completely different kettle of fish, and one that was going to be very hard to explain indeed if Claude-- _Khalid?_ \--Claude planned to continue this ruse for the rest of his life.  
  
It was only the next day that Edelgard managed to cross paths with Claude again, after classes had let out. Edelgard nearly walked past him on the way to the dining hall, but when she spotted the gold of his cape from the corner of her eye, she changed direction abruptly, turning on her heel with crisp precision and an utter lack of hesitation. He was talking to Hilda, and as Edelgard walked towards him with purpose, it was Hilda who spotted her first.  
  
"Uh oh," Hilda said, raising an eyebrow like she was about to witness something juicy. "What did you do?"  
  
"Nothing!" Claude raised his hands defensively.  
  
"Nothing," Edelgard echoed as she came to a stop next to him. "I simply need to talk to him."  
  
"Okay," Hilda said.  
  
A few beats passed in awkward silence as Hilda missed her cue to leave. Claude, perhaps suspecting that Hilda was making his life difficult just for fun, shook his head in feigned exasperation.  
  
"Do you play chess?" he asked Edelgard.  
  
"On occasion," Edelgard replied, and that was as good an excuse as any to extricate themselves from Hilda's company.  
  
Later, when they were seated at the chess table and arranging the pieces on the board, Edelgard would begin to wonder if approaching him so publicly had been a good choice. They had had little enough interaction, and likely people would wonder what a Black Eagles student had to speak with the leader of the Golden Deer.  
  
But there was nothing for it now. The only way out was through. And they truly did need to talk.  
  
"Are you aware of the marriage contract?" Edelgard asked.  
  
"A bold opening," he commented, rubbing his chin as he scrutinized the board intensely.  
  
"I haven't made a move yet," Edelgard said, pointing to the pieces in neat rows, the game not yet begun. If he could act purposefully dense, then so could she.  
  
"Not going to cut me any slack, huh?" He smiled again, in that way that didn't quite reach his eyes. He still looked only at the board. "Yeah. I know about the contract. I don't think we're due for another couple of years, though."  
  
"Three years," Edelgard corrected. When they would both be twenty years old. A nice, round number, as one of her stepmothers had said once.  
  
"Plenty of time," Claude said, nodding like he approved of the logistics. "White moves first, by the way." He looked up at her then, his joking attitude falling off.  
  
She wondered if he'd known, that summer he was in Enbarr, that they would end up engaged to be married, or if it had happened just as with her, the tidbit of information dropped into his lap by an adult's off-handed remark, as though the course of his life was a footnote in history books already. Or, maybe it was not so much a coincidence that their paths crossed so consistently that summer. Maybe this had never been a secret to him to begin with, because there'd been people in his life who cared enough to prepare him for the future.  
  
She picked up a pawn at random, and moved it. He hummed in acknowledgment, giving it more thought than she did.  
  
"Who am I marrying, then?" she asked.  
  
"Who?" Claude repeated, fingers tapping on the air above the pieces as he decided which to move. "You mean, whether it's the next Duke Riegan, or an Almyran prince? Well, which would you prefer?"  
  
"Do I have a choice in the matter? My preferences have scarcely mattered before."  
  
"Ah." The clack of a piece moving. "Neither, then? Maybe marriage isn't your thing."  
  
"And you would offer to dissolve the marriage contract if it didn't suit me?" Edelgard asked.  
  
"Of course I would," he said, quiet and intense--earnest, by the look in his eyes, the way he unflinchingly held her gaze. She remembered, now. He would tell her obvious lies, and make up stories to entertain her, but when he was serious, this was the look he would get on his face. It had looked disconcertingly intense on a young boy, but he had grown into it now, and it left her only with a burning need to believe him.  
  
She regarded him quietly, weighing the freedom he offered against the consequences of accepting.  
  
"But you haven't answered my question yet, and I wouldn't like to make ill-informed decisions," she said. "So who would I be marrying?"  
  
"Just one man," Claude replied, "but with dreams that span across the continents."  
  
"How romantic." Edelgard moved another piece, took with it one of Claude's. Yet despite her words, she sensed something more akin to naked ambition in his words. Concrete goals. Some image in his head that he pursued. She wondered what it felt like to want something like that. To have a dream and follow through on it. "I suppose the next question is, what use would such a man have for a wife?"  
  
No answer was forthcoming. But Claude replied with a question. "Who taught you to play chess?"  
  
"My etiquette instructor," Edelgard said. It was part of the basic education all of the Emperor's children received: a joint lesson in strategy and diplomacy.  
  
"So they taught you how to play the game, but not how to win," Claude observed. He moved a piece and took one of hers in the process, and he dangled the white-painted carved horse between his fingers like bait.  
  
"We were taught enough to hold our own in a game," Edelgard said coolly. "It was considered part of a well-rounded education, but playing board games is a frivolous pursuit for a princess."  
  
"So it didn't matter to them how good you were at it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have to matter to you." He looked into her eyes intensely as he asked the next question, like he intended to peer into her soul the way someone might peer through a cracked door over someone's should to see what was in the room beyond. "Don't you ever want to win?"  
  
Edelgard had not wanted to win often; sometimes she played with her youngest sister, who would pitch a fit if she lost and overturn the board, but sometimes, she'd played against Otto, who would let her win without putting in any effort, and praise her for her empty victories.  
  
But she had played against Hubert as well, a handful of times, and it had resulted in her being utterly crushed by an impressive margin. As servile as Hubert may have acted towards Otto in particular, or the Hresvelgs in general, he did not condescend. He did not downplay his skills, and did not coddle her. And in the face of his ruthlessness, Edelgard found herself wanting to overcome an opponent for the first time. She had wanted to be better at this game than she had ever tried to be before. Yet somewhere along the way, she had given up on improving her game. And, thinking back, she could not think why she had let this fall by the wayside. Maybe it hadn't mattered to her all that much.  
  
Here, now, five moves from checkmate, she found herself wanting to win again. Some small ember of ambition flickered to life inside her, and perhaps it was merely aggravation with Khalid--with Claude. But it was, at least, something to feel even if love never took root. Marriages had been built on worse foundations.  
  
"Show me how, and I'll let you know if I care for the experience," Edelgard replied.  
  
And Claude just grinned.

* * *

Edelgard was thirteen when Anselma returned from her exile. They made no efforts to conceal from Edelgard that the newly arrived woman who now lived in the Consorts' Wing was her mother, but neither did anyone seem to put any weight to this fact.  
  
Even Edelgard, for all that she had grown imagining what having a mother all of her own would be like, did not find herself as affected by Anselma's reappearance as she would have expected. She felt a curiosity towards the woman, who was sad-faced and quiet in such a way that it gave her an aura of mystery, but Edelgard had grown past being a child just enough that warmth did not come so easily towards Anselma.  
  
Their first interactions were stilted and polite, awkward for all that they tried to ignore it. They approached each other like wary cats, and Edelgard did not feel so guilty over harboring no strong familial feeling towards Anselma, when Anselma seemed to be having the same difficulty connecting.  
  
Over time, their interactions would smooth over, and their conversations would find some natural flow that, even if it did not resemble the usual rapport between mothers and daughters, still felt to Edelgard like she was being taken under the wing of a mentor. Anselma had learned harsh lessons at court, and did not wish for Edelgard to make the same mistakes.  
  
Edelgard was fifteen when Anselma found out about Edelgard's arranged marriage. It was not surprising it took so long, because it was the kind of common knowledge that nobody in the family felt the need to discuss. Not even Edelgard.  
  
But there had been a new sadness in Anselma's face that day.  
  
"I married for love," she said, and everything else could be inferred from there.  
  
She married for love, and she was sent away for it, too. She married for love, and it had not served her well. She married for love, and she had suffered for it.  
  
Maybe Edelgard would do better marrying for duty. Maybe love was best avoided.  
  
Anselma never did elaborate past that one statement and all its ambiguities, but that was the lesson Edelgard took away that day. There was no happily ever after guaranteed if you married for love.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Edelgard did not have to worry quite so much about what gossip would come of being seen playing chess with Claude. When she placed in her request to transfer to the Golden Deer class, her little chat with Claude had been taken as prelude to the decision.  
  
Ferdinand had not taken it as badly as she'd feared, though he had given Edelgard a kicked puppy look when she informed him of her decision.  
  
"This is my own failing in leadership," Ferdinand had declared, "that I could not persuade you to stay in spite of our early setbacks. No matter, a noble must always aim for self-improvement! As Prime Minister, I will have to learn to inspire more confidence into those who look towards me for guidance."  
  
At least while Ferdinand was monologuing, Edelgard did not need to explain her choices to him.  
  
She was not certain how she would have, anyway. She had never thought of herself as someone who would put her stake in something so intangible as a dream, yet when Claude spoke of it, it felt real in ways that mere dreams didn't. Maybe this was charisma, or maybe Edelgard was too sentimental by half when it came to a childhood friend she had only briefly known, yet she felt drawn in towards his purpose anyway, until she began thinking that it would not be so bad, all things considered, to have such dreams.  
  
And, as apprehensive as she was when she stepped into the Golden Deer classroom for the first time, she was met with nothing so much as an overflow of warmth and friendliness. Hilda had hooked her arm around Edelgard's, taking her around to introduce her to all the girls in the class, and when class started and Edelgard took her seat across the aisle from Ignatz, he smiled and waved at her, in spite of his shyness.

* * *

Lorenz, who took his nobility as seriously as Ferdinand did, invited Edelgard to tea one afternoon about a week after her transfer, and though she suspected it was only out of his desire to form connections and future alliances with the scions of other noble houses, and not out of any interest in her personally, she still went.  
  
He had been the prospective leader of the Leicester Alliance before Claude came out of nowhere, and though Edelgard had never asked him about Claude back when she had been trying to uncover his identity, she suspected Lorenz was even more voraciously curious to find out who Claude really was than she had ever been. She didn't think Lorenz _knew_ , exactly, but Edelgard couldn't see the harm in discovering just where Lorenz's suspicions fell.  
  
She arrived for tea in Lorenz's quarters to discover another one of their classmates, Lysithea, was also there.  
  
Lysithea was the youngest in their class, and by her lavender hair, she may well have been some distant relation of Lorenz, in that way that most nobles could find themselves related if they went back enough generations. Edelgard herself knew she was seventh or eighth cousins with Ferdinand, on account of an Aegir once being consort to the Emperor.  
  
But Lorenz and Lysithea met at the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, where Lysithea had been considered quite the prodigy, and Lorenz had been pursuing his passion for magic.  
  
Lorenz explained all this while Lysithea stuffed her mouth with cake.  
  
"Lysithea, please, do leave some for Edelgard," Lorenz requested, with fondness in his voice despite how much he tried to look cross with her.  
  
"Hmph," was Lysithea's first response, and then, after swallowing her mouthful, "cake is for children, you know. I still have a lot of growing to do, unlike you two. I should be getting most of it."  
  
Lorenz's lips pursed as though he was about to argue.  
  
"I didn't think the Officers Academy allowed children," Edelgard remarked.  
  
Lysithea gave Edelgard a narrow-eyed look, completely aware she was being teased, and licked her fork deliberately.  
  
"I'm one of the most talented magical minds of my generation," Lysithea finally said. "They could hardly turn away a mage of my potential."  
  
Edelgard elected to believe her. She had seen Lysithea at the mock battle only from afar, and her spells lit up across the battlefield with an incandescence that no other mage matched. The younger girl's unwavering confidence was not unjustified.  
  
But Lorenz dominated the discussion for the rest of teatime, asking Edelgard a variety of questions regarding what had made her switch to the Golden Deer, and then regarding Claude in particular.  
  
"I worry he may give off an inaccurate impression of Alliance nobility," Lorenz said with what he must have assumed was tact.  
  
"I find him quite different from the run of the mill Alliance nobles, actually," Edelgard replied, and her lack of tact was wholly deliberate.  
  
Lorenz gave her a flat look, sipped his tea. "Yes, I see you're quite taken with him."  
  
"I believe in him," Edelgard corrected.  
  
She could tell that Lorenz wanted to scoff in response, but he held himself in check, reconsidered.  
  
"You can afford to give him your personal support," Lorenz said, "because you are Adrestian. But I must look to the future of the entire Leicester Alliance, and to the adequacy of its leader. I fear what might happen if Claude is not up to the task."  
  
"Then you'll just find some way of getting yourself elected to the role instead, won't you?" Edelgard said.  
  
Lorenz frowned at her bluntness.  
  
"Is that what you think of me?" he wondered, more to himself. "Regardless of any potential for ascension, I would not want to become leader of a weakened or broken Alliance. I would much prefer it prosper under Claude, than falter so that I may swoop in to save it. We must not play games with the lives of our subjects; I think many nobles forget, in their jostling for power, who we are here to take care of."  
  
For Edelgard, who had always seen the Leicester noble families as a squabbling gaggle, this attitude was surprising. She suspected that it was also a type of idealism that Lorenz's father didn't share. But in it she saw a kind of silver lining. Lorenz could be Claude's greatest detractor in the long run, and it was reassuring to know that he was not the kind of person willing to destroy something if he couldn't have it.  
  
"I suppose I have misjudged you," Edelgard admitted.  
  
"Well," Lorenz sipped his tea, all but oozing self-satisfaction, "we shall have to take it as a lesson on hasty judgments. Now, if we may change the subject slightly, regarding your marriage prospects--"  
  
"I have an arrangement in place," Edelgard said.  
  
Lorenz's face reddened, and he sipped his tea again.  
  
"Of course, how fortunate for you. Thought I should ask, just in case," Lorenz said.  
  
"Told you so," Lysithea muttered through a mouthful of cake, before Lorenz hastened to change the subject.

* * *

The class workload in Golden Deer turned out to be quite different from what she had been used to in Black Eagles. Professor Hanneman had an inclination towards more detailed and theoretical work, where Professor Manuela emphasized practical experience and critical analysis.  
  
It was an adjustment, to be sure, but she could understand the differences when she looked at the class roster. Golden Deer historically tended to have a larger proportion of commoners or minor nobles who'd never had the same tutelage in theory that their mostly-noble classmates in Black Eagles would have grown up receiving. Edelgard simply had to adapt to a new teacher's requirements.  
  
Still, when she went up to Professor Hanneman and requested to continue her training in flying, he had nodded approvingly, and made a note of it.  
  
"Had you been thinking of becoming a pegasus rider, then?" Hanneman asked, leaning over his notes as they were spread over his desk, perhaps thinking of how to slot her into the battle configurations he had already established among the rest of his students.  
  
"I was thinking wyvern, actually," Edelgard admitted.  
  
Hanneman raised an eyebrow, but then nodded without comment, and scribbled another line into his notes. Flying and axe training, with an eye towards wyvern rider.  
  
"You will be on air patrols for the week, in that case," Hanneman said. "Alongside--hm. Ah. Yes. Claude."  
  
"Of course," Edelgard replied, and felt Claude's eyes on the back of her head.  
  
Most everyone had filed out of the classroom, but Claude lingered, pretending it was sheer coincidence that he left his seat and fell into step with Edelgard just as she walked out the door.  
  
"A wyvern is still better than a crest, isn't it?" he asked with a grin, and Edelgard nearly swatted him. Fine of him to say that, when he could very well have both.  
  
They walked together to the library, as was their new habit. When she first transferred, Claude offered to help her with classwork. Despite her skepticism, she couldn't deny she could use the help. She was only hesitant about any appearance of favoritism.  
  
Perhaps she oughtn't have worried, because the more time she spent with Claude, the more she realized that he often took such interest in his classmates. When other students couldn't perform their chores, Claude was willing to pick up the slack; if someone in class seemed sad or unusually quiet, Claude was there with a joke or a quiet word, whichever might help; and he listened to gossip like a fishwife at market, though he never gossiped himself. He could be irreverent in the way he spoke of other people, but he was never cruel.  
  
At any rate, Edelgard could have also opted to meet Claude in his room or hers, but out of some newly-found sense of propriety, she hesitated to do that. At least if they sat together in the library, not even Seteth, who roamed the halls of the monastery to sniff out any canoodling teenagers, would not see anything untoward about Edelgard and Claude at a table, with a book between them; though, it was often not lessons alone that Claude spoke of.  
  
He didn't have any better a grasp of material than Edelgard did, but he had a good sense of people; he told her all about what kind of teacher Hanneman was, and how to meet his expectations to get a good grade. It seemed Claude had it down to a science how many times to raise a hand in class and what kind of questions to ask to appear engaged, and the number of citations in an essay that would guarantee a good grade.  
  
More than that, Claude drew Edelgard's attention to their classmates as well; not gossip, no, but a little hint or a suggestion: _has Hilda tried to get you to do her a favor yet? She's so very talented at flattery._ Or, _has Lorenz passed along a marriage proposal? Has Raphael offered you a plate of food? Have you ever come across Leonie restringing bows in her free time, when nobody has even asked her too?_  
  
That evening, in the library, Claude pointed out Marianne, who fumbled with a book and dropped it, and then flinched terribly at the sound it made, looking around to see if she had attracted anyone's attention.  
  
"Best look away," Claude advised, and following his lead, Edelgard also feigned to not have noticed Marianne's clumsiness. Marianne's shoulders, previously hunched up to her ears, relaxed when she thought nobody had witnessed her fumble, and she quickly slid the book back in its space on the shelf.  
  
It occurred to Edelgard to wonder, then, what Claude might have noticed about herself. The look she gave him must have been strange, because he raised an eyebrow.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing," Edelgard replied, "only that I find myself learning a great deal."  
  
And what she didn't add was that she aimed to learn a great deal more about him from that point on.  
  
Claude just laughed, like it was a joke they shared.


	5. Chapter 5

Hanneman laid out their mission for the month in its bare details, and encouraged the students to research the details further, but he hardly needed to, because there seemed to be a buzz of excitement around it, regardless.  
  
Sometimes, evenings in the Golden Deer common room had the atmosphere of childhood sleepovers to them. Perhaps part of it was simply the personality that a house leader imprinted upon the class: Edelgard had seen the mess of Claude's room, the bed strewn with books, the alchemical supplies littered about the place.  
  
The common room had a bit of the same air to it, with cushions placed in clumps, and books left bookmarked and half-read in odd places. Edelgard had not yet been part of the class at the beginning of the previous month, so she did not know if this was a habit, but after having finished that month's mission, the students gathered to discuss their next assignment.  
  
A caravan of artisans travelling through Leicester territory had requested help from the monastery, following an unusually high number of encounters with demonic beasts. They wanted protection as they passed through the mountains and into Faerghus, where they would either receive an escort from their Faerghus hosts, or, even more likely in Edelgard's estimation, the Blue Lions were going to pick up the same mission, to continue escorting the caravan the entire way home.  
  
"It's the Duscur Fair," Edelgard heard the other students mention in giddy tones, like it was something they were familiar with.  
  
"Should we clarify for our Adrestian classmates?" Claude asked with a grin, as he looked around the common room.  
  
"What, does the fair not pass through the Empire?" one of the student scoffed. They got summarily smacked with a cushion for their rudeness.  
  
"I must confess, I've never heard of it," Edelgard said. She sat on a cushion of her own, though much more primly than the other assembled students.  
  
"The Duscur Fair," Claude explained, "is a caravan of artisans from Duscur that travel across Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance to ply their trades and learn new techniques. They've got an interesting variety: potters, blacksmiths, furriers, artists-- oh, the cooks and bakers are particularly popular."  
  
"The animals, too," Leonie piped in.  
  
"Right, right. They also trade in cattle. I think they've got a type of cow native to the mountains of Duscur," Claude nodded.  
  
"Aurochs," someone else piped in.  
  
"Anyway," Claude continued, before the chatter could go off track, "because of the Empire's protectionist laws, outside artisans can't really do their jobs within Adrestian borders without either special permits that take years to process, or extortionate fees. So, no, the Duscur Fair doesn't really go that far south."  
  
"You guys are really missing out," Raphael said, and turned to Edelgard, gesturing broadly. "They make this stew, see--"  
  
"I am sure Edelgard will find out about the stew soon enough," Lorenz said, gently redirecting Raphael before he could no doubt go on a very long and very well-informed diatribe on the stew.  
  
"Sounds... colorful," Edelgard opined.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sounds like great fun," Claude said. " _If_ we manage to keep them from being eaten by monsters."

* * *

Edelgard hadn't thought of herself as having a sheltered experience until coming to Garreg Mach, but the more the world unraveled before her and she became aware of what radically different lives other people led, the more she became aware of her own limited life experience. And how could it be otherwise, when so much of her life had been circumscribed by the walls of the Family Wing in the Enbarr Imperial Palace?  
  
"What is Almyra like?" Edelgard asked Claude one day, as they sat in the library working on a tedious essay together.  
  
Claude froze, and he looked around in that way of his, where he made it seem very hard like he wasn't looking at all, but there was nobody around to overhear them; Edelgard had checked before asking the question.  
  
"Your tutors didn't cover that?" Claude asked.  
  
"They might have assumed I would find out for myself eventually," Edelgard said. Or maybe it was that her tutoring subjects were predetermined by whichever Imperial consort had her hand in the game. Her education had not been limited, certainly; it always matched that of her siblings. But it had also never been tailored to her personally.  
  
"Ready to send you into the lion's den unprepared, huh?"  
  
But, after a moment's hesitation, Claude moved from where he was sitting across the table to occupy the chair next to Edelgard instead. He pulled the book they were both using for reference so it sat between them, open; a pretext, more than anything.  
  
"You know, there's a few books about Almyra in this library," he said.  
  
"Are they accurate to any degree?" Edelgard asked.  
  
Claude laughed. "No," he said. "They're pretty awful, actually." He tilted his head as he looked at her. "You know, even my experience of Almyra isn't what you'd call typical. It's one thing to know Almyra as an Almyran, and another to know it as a foreigner, and I kind of-- fell somewhere in the middle. My mother's from Fodlan."  
  
Edelgard blinked, tried to recall the adults who'd accompanied him on his visit to Enbarr all that time ago, but if she had met either of his parents, Edelgard truly could not remember. Would she have known if any of the women in the Almyran delegation were Fodlan? She'd never been quite so observant as a ten-year-old to say for sure.  
  
"I didn't know that," Edelgard admitted. "My own mother was exiled when I was a child."  
  
"Yeah, I heard."  
  
Edelgard suppressed a flinch. "You did?"  
  
"I was nosy as a kid, and your sisters liked to gossip a lot."  
  
"Ah." Edelgard wasn't sure if she wanted to smile. "Did you know she came back?"  
  
"From exile?"  
  
"Yes. A few years ago."  
  
"Huh. You want to talk about it?"  
  
It wasn't what Edelgard meant to discuss, but Claude was cagey about talking of Almyra in public, and if he wanted to redirect the subject, she was willing to let him. Only, it was such a personal subject for her...  
  
A polite cough interrupted before Edelgard could say anything, and only then, with the stern figure of Seteth looming, did she realize that she and Claude had been sitting close, they heads near together. Heat rose to her face, and she shuffled her seat further away, putting some distance between herself and Claude. Like some of the more conservative old nuns would say, Edelgard left enough room for Sothis between. It was never a line Seteth used, but it may well have been for the flat look he was giving them.  
  
Claude grinned mischief at Seteth, not the least bit self-conscious, and at any rate, Seteth departed to find some other teenagers in need of their celibacy being enforced.  
  
But later, as they walked out of the library, down the lonely halls that were growing dimmer as the day dragged on, Edelgard found herself picking up the thread of the conversation in her mind, and mulling over Claude's question.  
  
The sun was newly set, a band of orange still at the horizon, but a few stray stars freckling the sky.  
  
"I think I _would_ like to speak of my mother," Edelgard said quietly, and it sounded like a confession to her own ears. "Only, I wouldn't know how to even start."  
  
"That's fine," Claude said.  
  
They came to a stop outside, the cobbled paths empty of students. Guards and knight clattered along in the distance, but the space between them was quiet, and the warm air had a softness to it. They looked up at the sky together, the thought coming to each of them independently, but the instinct to admire the endless azure running like a thread through them both.  
  
"How about I tell you about mine first?" Claude offered.  
  
"I'd like that," Edelgard said.


	6. Chapter 6

Edelgard had no set plans to meet Claude that day, as their diverging chore shifts and the different training schedules would have made it inconvenient, but she was heading towards the dining hall when she spotted him anyway, just off the side of the building, talking to Dimitri from the Blue Lions.  
  
She didn't quite stop, but she slowed a bit to wonder what they might be talking about--Dimitri was gesturing in an animated fashion, and Claude was nodding to something with his winning grin. They were too far away to overhear, especially with the clamor coming from inside the dining hall, but as Edelgard headed for the food line, she did wonder if Claude was scheming something, and if Dimitri would be his unwitting accomplice. Or maybe it was no scheme at all, but another of Claude's attempts to feel out the politics of the continent.  
  
She was already halfway through her meal when Claude wandered over to her table, and slid in the seat next to her.  
  
"So you won't believe who you caught me talking to just earlier," Claude said with a lopsided grin.  
  
"I won't believe it, will I?" Edelgard replied, considering the bit of meat skewered on her fork like she was consulting it for answers. "Well, I may as well not even try guessing!"  
  
"Come on, don't you want to know what His Princeliness wanted to talk to me about?" Claude wheedled.  
  
"Oh, _he_ wanted to talk to _you_?" Edelgard raised an eyebrow. "So Prince Dimitri is a schemer, too. I should have guessed."  
  
"Of course he is," Claude said, "that's just how royalty operates. I'll reveal his scheme for your bread roll, though."  
  
"Truly you are a fairweather ally," Edelgard replied flatly, but, overtaken by curiosity as she was, she slid her bread roll to Claude anyway. He plucked it from her and bit into it with such zest, that half of it was gone in one mouthful. "Since it appears I won't be getting a refund, this better be very good information."  
  
"Blue Lions want to join us on our class assignment," Claude replied, muffled through his mouthful of bread.  
  
Edelgard raised both eyebrows now. She leaned her cheek against her fist as she considered this piece of news, and mulled on it for about as long as it took Claude to chew and swallow.  
  
"Faerghus has close ties to Duscur, so it isn't surprising," Edelgard said.  
  
"Centennial ties of friendship," Claude said like he was quoting someone--probably Dimitri. "Though their interest might rest more in financial interests. It's been a real boon to the Faerghan economy, you know. Every merchant going for Duscur has to pass through Faerghus, and what money they aren't extracting through toll roads, they're definitely getting in increased trade."  
  
"You suspect Dimitri of such cynicism?" Edelgard asked.  
  
"Nah. He's too cuddly for that," Claude said, "but just because it isn't his primary motivation, it doesn't mean Dimitri isn't aware of all the political ramifications if anything happens to the Duscur caravan."  
  
Edelgard snorted softly. "Royalty can afford anything but sentimentalism, is that it?"  
  
"Sentiment is free," Claude replied, "but we still might be getting something out of this. The Duscur caravan is going to be a lot more welcoming to us if we show up with a few of their Faerghus friends in tow, don't you think?"  
  
"I suppose we shall see," Edelgard replied.  
  


* * *

  
  
Edelgard was not privy to the discussions between house leaders and professors, beyond what tidbits Claude dropped to her and the rest of the class, but whatever discussions did take place resulted in a smaller joint mission the next weekend: the Blue Lions and Golden Deer would help clear bandits from a pass, and stop them from preying on passing merchants.This would test how well they meshed before they went on their mission to aid the Duscur caravan.  
  
Professors Hanneman and Emile came along, of course, but they left the planning and tactics primarily to Claude and Dimitri to sort out between them.  
  
"It is to be a learning experience," Professor Hanneman had told them, cheerfully, at their joint class strategy meeting. "Robust as the curriculum may be, theoretical learning can never truly replace hands-on practice."  
  
"Your combat training has been adequate to the task," Professor Emile added, as he looked over the two classes morosely. "Do not disappoint."  
  
"Of course, Professors," Dimitri replied with an incline of the head, but next to him, his second-in-command Felix had straightened to attention, almost vibrating with earnestness.  
  
Edelgard had run into quite a few teachers' pets at the monastery, but the way Felix looked at Professor Emile with something bordering on awe, she guessed there must have been something truly impressive about his skills as a professor. Certainly, all she knew about Emile von Bartels was that his combat skills were second to none. She supposed that must have had its appeal to Faerghan sensibilities.  
  
In the end, the bandits indeed proved no match for the students, but the more interesting part about the mission was seeing the two classes mingle.  
  
Dimitri himself was as stalwart a prince as might have stepped out of a fairytale's pages: he wielded his lance expertly, but he also knew a fair bit of healing to boot. Edelgard, whose skill with the axe and heavy armor suited her to frontline, felt the cooling touch of physic like a pleasant drizzle on the back of her neck, and though she did not look back to see who it came from, it helped strengthen her arm after it was almost wrenched out of her shoulder on a blocked blow.  
  
Later, after the battle ended, Hilda made impressed little sounds at Dimitri.  
  
"Wow, Dimitri, you can heal too? You really are the full package."  
  
"Ah--yes, I learned from my stepmother," Dimitri replied, with an embarrassed cough. Edelgard didn't have to turn around to picture the rising blush to Dimitri's cheeks as Hilda's attention bore down on him. She was probably pulling that move she used with boys sometimes, where she complimented their battle prowess before extracting a promise that they would defend her in battle.  
  
But Edelgard knew about Dimitri's stepmother, from reputation alone: Cornelia Arnim Blaiddyd, who'd risen to prominence during a plague which swept Faerghus years ago, and who had almost single-handedly revolutionized the health system in Faerghus to prevent any future outbreaks. That King Lambert had then chosen to wed her had been something of a sensation at the time: scandalized muttering among those in Fodlan who frowned on him marrying a commoner, and starry-eyed sighs among the romantics who thought this was a love story for the ages.  
  
Dimitri seemed quite proud of his stepmother and her accomplishments, and on a more personal note, fond of her personally. Hilda never did get to bat her eyes at Dimitri and make him swear to protect her, because he managed to detour the conversation into a treaty on his stepmother's accomplishments in the domain of healing magic and medicine, and Hilda realized her mistake too late to politely extricate herself.  
  
While Dimitri expounded on Lady Cornelia's impressive and storied career, Edelgard joined the students who were sorting through the remnants of the bandit camp.  
  
Anything that could be returned to its rightful owner would be, but for the most part, anything else was to go to the Church's expenses. The bandits had stolen a wide variety of goods: fabrics, spices, weapons, but they had fenced anything they did not have an immediate use for. The alcohol, they drank, and the better weapons they had traded for inferior versions so they could pocket the difference in gold.  
  
Which was to say, it felt to Edelgard like ragpicking as she sorted through the remaining detritus of the bandit camp. Blunted axes and musty underthings were about the most interesting things she came across.  
  
The other students assigned to the same task, Leonie and Sylvain, went about it with varying levels of efficiency. Leonie was the type who would pry the fillings from the bandits' mouths if someone told her they could be melted down for scrap, but Sylvain was less than convinced about the necessity of this exercise.  
  
"You know," Sylvain said, "when my _honorable father_ paid the extortionate tuition for me to come study at the Officers Academy, I don't think this is what he had in mind." He gestured to the pile of rusty daggers Leonie had piled to be sorted through.  
  
"You'll be thankful for the experience if you're ever in dire enough straits to be doing this for real, you know," Leonie pointed out.  
  
"That is true," Edelgard agreed. "In times of war, you may find resources stretched very thin indeed. Reclaiming your defeated enemy's weapons and supplies may be vital to keeping your own war efforts afloat."  
  
"Whoa, getting ganged up on by the lovely Deer," Sylvain laughed in response. But when Leonie and Edelgard leveled unamused looks at him, he threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I see your point. Yeesh, wouldn't want to go to war against you two. You'd scrimp and scrape your way to victory."  
  
"Wars have been won by less honest means," Edelgard pointed out.  
  
"Hold on, who's declaring war?" Claude piped up as he ambled on by.  
  
"Nobody," Edelgard and Leonie said as the same time, which made Claude peer at Sylvain curiously.  
  
Sylvain shrugged. "Hey, I wasn't the one to bring it up. I just have that effect on women, I guess."  
  
"Riiight," Claude said. He still held his bow, though the battle was long over, and Edelgard understood why when Claude continued, "I was just going to hunt dinner. Thought maybe someone would like to come and help...?"  
  
Leonie perked up immediately, and Edelgard assured her it was no trouble at all if she wanted to go and hunt.  
  
After Leonie and Claude were gone, however, Edelgard wasn't sure she liked the look that Sylvain gave her.  
  
"Surprised you didn't go with," he said.  
  
"I'm a far worse shot than either of them," Edelgard replied, as she tried to slip a sword out of its sheath--it was rusted stuck. She wiggled the hilt with no real luck. Did the bandits not do any weapons maintenance? Was drinking and fighting all they spent their time on?  
  
"That's not what I mean," Sylvain said, as Edelgard tried to inch the sword out. "Just thought you'd want to spend time with your boyfriend."  
  
The hilt snapped off. The rusted blade remained in its sheath. Edelgard stared at the two pieces in her hands before looking up at Sylvain.  
  
"Are you serious right now?" she asked.  
  
"I wasn't just a moment ago, but now I'm starting to think the gossip is on to something," Sylvain grinned. He leaned forward, lowering his voice to conspiratorial tones. "So tell me, are you going to run off on your betrothed and into Claude's arms? What's that saying, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush? If you married Claude, that would be two Crests you'd be likely to pass on. Way better odds than your foreign prince."  
  
"That's not--" Edelgard dropped the broken sword to the ground and huffed, incensed. "Look, Sylvain, if you're going to be spreading rumors--"  
  
"I wasn't the one spreading them," Sylvain replied. "But if it comes down to it, you should know what people are saying."  
  
"That Claude is my boyfriend?" she scoffed.  
  
Sylvain shrugged, still grinning ear to ear at her, but she had seen the same expression on Claude one too many times not to notice that it did not reach his eyes. He looked at her coldly, like some specimen of humanity he was studying to prove some thesis in his head.  
  
Edelgard knew she couldn't just tell him the truth, because the truth was not entirely hers to tell, but neither did she like whatever mistaken impression Sylvain was carrying. She thought, instead, of what kind of truth Claude would employ in this situation. Just enough to paint a picture, he had said once. She knew how to paint a picture: a broad stroke could give the impression of something and let the mind fill in the rest.  
  
"Claude is not my boyfriend," Edelgard said, "and I have no intention of breaking off my betrothal. But..." She licked her lips as she paused, picking her words carefully. "But the Leicester Alliance's relationship with Almyra has been tumultuous in the past and... Claude aspires for it to be otherwise. I see the benefits towards building relations between these two nations too. So, in a sense, Claude and I are allies towards a future we hope to attain one day."  
  
The grin mostly slipped from Sylvain's face, but his expression turned to something more sincere, as well. Though Edelgard was in no way beholden to him, and rightly should not have cared for rumor or the petty gossip of people like Sylvain, she still found herself tensely awaiting his response like it would be the rendering of some verdict.  
  
"If that's really it," Sylvain said, "then I really wish the two of you well."  
  
Edelgard narrowed her eyes at him, trying to parse his tone for even the slightest whiff of sarcasm.  
  
"No, really," Sylvain said. "Not a lot of people would be brave enough to do what you two are doing. A lot of people find it easier to raise a sword than extend a hand in friendship."  
  
"Is that what your 'honorable father' sent you to the academy to learn?" Edelgard asked. "How to raise a sword?"  
  
"Nah," Sylvain said, a rueful smile twisting at his lips. "A lance."


End file.
